Page 144 of Wyatt

Sally isn’t taking the job?Since when? Why? And how can I feel so relieved and so terrified, all at once?

Then I remember the cryptic way she kept saying she wanted to stay in Hartsville the other day. But she made no mention of going so far as to quit her job.

I feel Duke’s and Ryder’s eyes on me.

“She didn’t tell me, no,” I manage.

John hesitates, his finger falling from the trigger. I can see the mental gymnastics he’s doing to have it all make sense.

“I can prove it to you actually.” I put my hand on my zipper.

John immediately puts his finger back on the trigger. “Keep your hands where I can see ’em.”

“John—”

“You’d best listen.” He moves toward me, rifle still raised.

I back up, my hands held high.

“I would never let Sally quit her job on my account,” I manage. “You know this about me. I love her more than words can say, but I’d never—you know I’d never ask that of her. I’m a man of my word, John. Please, let me prove it.”

“We all can prove it,” Ryder chimes in. “Just give us a minute. A second.”

But John keeps stalking toward us. We keep backing up until we’re moving out of the barn and into the night, the four of us standing in the dirt path between the corral and the barn.

A flash of light catches my eye. I turn my head to see approaching headlights.

Cash’s Ford.

At the same time, I hear a scream.

Sally.

My Sally.

She appears at the edge of the circle of illumination that’s put off by the floodlights over our heads. She’s breathing hard, her eyes wet with tears as she takes in her dad, the rifle, and then me.

“Stop!” she screams again. “Dad, put down the rifle right now.”

Cash’s truck jerks to a stop beside the barn.

“Not until he swears he’s gonna keep his promise,” John replies. “Let her go, Wyatt.”

Sally shakes her head as she comes to stand beside me. “You’re insane, Dad. Seriously, if you don’t put the gun down, I’m calling the cops.” She digs her phone out of her pocket and holds it up.

I hear a truck door open. Close.

Sally grabs my hand. I twine our fingers.

John keeps the gun pointed at my chest.

“I swear to God, John, it’s not what you think,” I say.

“You’re lying, Wyatt,” he replies.

“Dad, please, stop,” Sally begs. “This is ridiculous.Putthe gundown.He’s right?—”

“What’s going on here?” Cash’s voice, sharp and loud, cuts through the night air.